One Last Present
by Sheryl Nantus
Summary: One last thing to finish off Christmas Day...


Please Archive Anywhere... grin... 

All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh... 

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@goodmedia.com 

Summary: One last thing to finish off Christmas Day...Spoilers: none... well, if you haven't seen the third season and before, you're outta luck...Rating: G, Story... 

One Last Present (1/1)by Sheryl Martin 

Stifling a yawn with one hand over his mouth, the elderly man sat back in the oversized chair; propping his feet up on the stool sitting in front of him. 

His wife appeared in the doorway, two steaming hot mugs of cocoa sitting daintily on a tray beside a small plate of sandwiches. 

Placing them on the table between the two chairs she sat down beside him; letting an annoyed sigh out. "Well, that's done. Imagine them asking you to work on Christmas Day. The nerve..." An angry shrug of her shoulders. "I mean, you work hard enough all year - why can't they leave you along for one day is beyond me. And for what?" 

The old man smiled, reaching across to take her hand. "It's not too often I have to do this, pet... besides, it was bad timing on my part more than anything else to be honest..." 

Sighing again, the woman nodded. "I guess so - but I worry. After all, you're no spring chicken to be hustling around at all hours Christmas Day." A giggle escaped her weathered face. "And you'd think that after all this time they'd have things arranged better..." 

He nodded, picking up one of the sandwiches and taking a hearty bite. "Well, it won't happen again. Next year it'll hopefully be a lot simpler." 

"You hope." His wife replied, looking at the fire as it devoured the logs strategically placed. 

******* 

Mulder yawned, feeling both his back and stomach complain of overuse. The stomach was a complaint of rare form; having gorged himself on the "small meal" that Mrs. Scully had sent over for him. 

His back, however, was sore for the simple reason that he had dozed off sitting upright on the couch. 

And he had slept in that position because his partner was a couch potato of the first degree. 

Turning his head wearily to one side he watched her quietly for a minute; memorising how she managed to somehow take up every available inch of space stretched out - mathematically impossible, given her size. 

But then, he had begun to believe in miracles lately. 

Rubbing his stomach again, he slipped one hand under the grey tshirt and yawned loudly, suppressing a burp. 

"Your mother can adopt me anytime, Scully..." 

Her answer was mumbled into the cushion under her head as she turned away from the noise of his voice. 

"Right..." He muttered in agreement. "And tonight we can spend Christmas Day night watching anything BUT football replays..." His hand twitched over the television controller. "I wonder if there's any European basketball going on.." 

Suddenly there was a loud thump at the door - not hard enough to be a knock, but loud enough to wake Scully from her food-induced coma. 

"Whuzzat?" Sitting upright, she ran a hand through her hair. "Mulder.. tell me you didn't order pizza. Not today." 

Shaking his head, he staggered to his feet. "No way... I don't think I'll have room for anything for the next month or so - then I can start on the leftovers..." 

Scully got to her feet as well, a worried expression on her face. "Mulder, that sounded strange..." 

Nodding, he joined her, padding silently towards the door in his socks. "Where's your weapon?" 

"Lost in your couch somewhere..." The whispered response came. "And yours?" 

"Under the table beside the cake box.." 

"It's your apartment, Mulder..." With a flourish she waved him towards the door. "I've got your back..." 

"Thanks." Gingerly he turned the deadbolt, hearing the snick as it drew back. Turning the doorknob slowly, he inched the door open; ready to spring back. 

Then he swung the door wide open, an expression of surprise and embarrassment on his face. "Geez, Scully..." Bending down, he picked up the two identically-wrapped parcels. "Did you forget these outside or something?" 

Her eyes widened as she took in the two small packages. "Mulder... those aren't mine." 

"Cool..." Putting one to his ear, he listened to it for a second. "It's not ticking..." Glancing down at the wrapping, he grinned. "This one's for you." He gestured at the tag. "Dr. D. Scully..." 

Taking it from him, she frowned. "Haven't heard that title for a long time." She looked at the other book-sized parcel still in his hands. "And that one's for ..." 

"Fox." He smiled, one edge of his mouth twitching higher at the word. "Guess it's not for anyone else, then." 

"They could be dangerous..." She ventured as she sat down on the sofa. "We don't know who sent them..." 

"Then let's find out." Crossing over to the sofa as well, he stepped over her as he sat down beside her and began to tear at the wrappings. 

He fell silent as the paper fell away to reveal a thick wooden picture frame; the dark red cherry wood contrasting with the vibrant colours in the photo enclosed under the glass. 

Mulder let a sigh escape, oblivious to his partner beside him. 

A picture of himself. 

And his sister. 

Taken so long ago that he couldn't remember the time or place, the two playful faces captured in a single moment of happiness; neither of them knowing what was lying ahead in their respective futures. 

"Scully..." He whispered. "Would you think any less of me if I sat here and cried like a child for a few minutes?" 

Finally turning towards him, she shook her head; the tears already trickling down her own face. Tilting the frame on her lap toward him, she bit down on her bottom lip. 

"Not if you don't mind me doing the same..." 

Mulder looked at her pictures, at a younger and happier pair of sisters caught in a split second of agreement and contentment, taken long before there was a Dr. Scully or the X Files. 

"Yeah..." He exhaled slowly; letting his own tears begin to flow. "I miss them both..." 

Rubbing one eye dry, Scully nodded. "But... I never knew this picture existed..." Letting out a half-sob, half-sigh she stared down at the photo. "Now it feels like... like I have her here, if only for a few minutes more." She looked up at him. "Does that sound silly?" 

He shook his head, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. "Today, of all days I think it's okay to be illogical." A glance down at his frame. "Only today, mind you - tomorrow I want my other Scully back." 

Choking out a chuckle, she nodded. "Yes..." Drawing her fingers across the glass, the redhead smiled. "Tomorrow... but today I think we can both have them back for a few minutes..." 

****** 

Ignoring his wife's disapproving stare, the elderly man tamped the tobacco down into his pipe and lit it. 

"I just hope this is the last time that happens..." His wife reached for a sandwich. "After all, you can only do so much." 

"Well, I'm hoping next year I only have to make one delivery - to the same house..." 

********** 


End file.
